


You're The Only Light I've Ever Known

by evenstar0600



Series: AHS Oneshots/Imagines! [1]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story RPF, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: BDSM Scene, Ben Harmon Is An Idiot, Childbirth, Custody Arrangements, Custody Battle, Death in Childbirth, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Kissing, Michael Langdon Deserves Better, Older Woman/Younger Man, Past Infidelity, Post-Divorce, Pregnancy, Reader Doesn't Have Custody Of Child, Sex, Smoking, Soft Tate Langdon, Tate Langdon Is Adorable, Therapy, Underage Smoking, Vaginal Sex, Violet Harmon Deserved Better, Vivien Harmon Doesn't Exist Here, mentions of divorce, rubber suit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evenstar0600/pseuds/evenstar0600
Summary: Freshly-divorced, former alcoholic Y/n L/n moves away from Boston to Los Angeles with her pet dog, Hallie. Her husband, Ben, was unfaithful and revoked her custody rights for their teenage daughter, Violet. Y/n soon buys a house in LA, unknown of its history. As a therapist, Y/n gets a lot of patients but one day she gets a new one called Tate Langdon.
Relationships: Ben Harmon & Violet Harmon, Past Ben Harmon/Reader, Tate Langdon/Reader, Tate Langdon/You, Violet Harmon & Reader
Series: AHS Oneshots/Imagines! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182992
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. A New Home

**Chapter One: A New Home**

_2nd Person POV_

A drag of smoke escaped your lips. A cigarette between two fingers as _The Chain_ by Fleetwood Mac played from your car's radio. You'd driven miles across the country, journeying from Boston, Massacheuttes to Los Angeles, California. Your pet dog, Hallie, a white Chi Poo who you'd recently adopted sat in her dog carrier in the front passenger.

"This is a fresh start, Halls," you said to the dog, not expecting a reply, "Away from all that...crap I went through. With Ben, custody and everything. It was tough, y'know. Plus, the asshole revoked my visitation privileges of _my freaking daughter!_ I gave birth to her, _not him!_ God, what did I even see in him? He was fuckin' stupid!".

Hallie barked in agreement as you continued to cruise down the Los Angeles freeway, you laughed at Hallie's agreement. The song switched from _The Chain_ to _Back In Black_ by AC/DC. You were 40-something, single and not looking back on the past. 

The reason for you divorcing Ben? His infidelity. He cheated on you with his 21-year-old college student, Hayden McClaine, a year prior. You separated from Ben and took Violet to Florida to live with your sister, S/n. But, then you descended into alcoholism. Originally, you had soul custody of Violet. You two were happy in Florida. Ben sent you to rehab and took primary custody of Violet.

You had originally gotten to see Violet at weekends until he revoked custody privileges until you could 'get better'. "Screw him!" you declared, "Screw that motherfucker!".

Hallie yapped excitedly in agreement. You pulled off the freeway, driving your 2010, yellow Volkswagen Beetle. You drove through the streets of LA until the little voice on the navigation system announced 'You have reached your destination'. 

You parked your car on the driveway of an old-looking house. You looked at it, as you took Hallie out of her dog carrier, resting her in your arms. You stared helplessly at the beautiful exterior of the house. A house that gorgeous shouldn't have been the price it was. It was worth four times as much. 

Approaching the front door, you couldn't shake off the feeling that somebody was watching you. You knocked twice on the door, as a woman with short hair answered the door. She was Marcy, your realtor.

Marcy had given you a tour around the house. Now, you were in a little, study-like room. Hallie rested in your arms snugly. Marcy explained the room to you, giving some nods. "Maybe I could use this as an office for seeing patients," you said.

Marcy nodded. "I remember you saying you were a therapist,".

You nodded. You had to ask. "Marcy," you said, catching the realtor's attention, "I was just wondering; has anything, ya know, bad ever happened in here?".

Marcy sighed, inhaling. "I thought you'd ask that. Full disclosure does require that I tell you what happened to the previous owners,".

You mentally prepared yourself for the worst. Did they die in the house or something? "Oh god, they didn't die in here or anything like that?".

The realtor gave you a look that made you assume 'yes'. She went into detail about the murder-suicide that took place two years prior. A couple had lived in the house before you, two men called Chad and Patrick. "I sold them the house too. They were just the sweetest couple," Marcy admitted.

"I guess that's why this house is half the price of every other house in the neighbourhood, then," you responded. "I'll take it,".

Marcy was shocked that you'd accepted, even after hearing about the gruesome murder that happened here. Nonetheless, she began to talk about legal documents and stuff. 

~~~

Two weeks, you'd fully moved into the house. Violet was in contact with you and you'd just called her, wishing her a good night. You missed your daughter, so much. You turned over onto your side, clad in pyjamas. Hallie was curled up by your feet at the foot of the bed, sleeping. You sighed, turning the light off before heading off to sleep


	2. Tate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week of living in your new house, you're acquainted with the neighbours and even have a housekeeper called Moira. Today, you're getting a brand new patient, Tate Langdon.

** Chapter 2: Tate **

_2nd Person POV_

You'd not drank anything for a whole year. You'd successfully begun to quit smoking. Your life was pretty good. Your career was skyrocketing, getting lots of new patients. You had sat in a therapy session with an 8-year-old girl called Katie with anxiety. Poor kid. The session had just ended and Katie's mother was here to pick her up.

Here you were, two weeks after moving into your new home. You were on good terms with your neighbour, Constance. Last night, you'd received a spook when you discovered a Rubber bodysuit in the attic. Currently, you were talking to Katie's mother.

"Thank you, Doctor L/n," Katie's mother thanked.

"Katie's a very promising child," you said, "She's got a bright future ahead of her,".

Katie's mother fondly smiled at that before going into the car. Katie waved at you from the backseat, with you returning her wave. You breathed in the afternoon air. Constance waved at you as she walked her dogs. Her daughter, Addie, was at home. You adored Addie, but she had a habit of breaking and entering your home at ungodly hours. 

"Excuse me?" a male voice asked from behind you.

You turned around to find a teenage boy, around 17 behind you. He had a mop of blond hair with the most beautiful brown eyes. He wore a black and green striped sweater, blue ripped jeans which showed his knees and black sneakers. 

"Are you Doctor L/n?" he asked.

You smiled softly at him and nodded. "Uh, yeah that's me. How can I help you?".

"My name's Tate Langdon," Tate introduced, "I'm your 4:30 appointment,".

You gasped in realisation, "Oh, yes! Come, come on in. We can get started right away,".

~~~

You had moved into your office. You sat on a black, leather armchair whilst the blond teenager who was your newest patient sat across from you. Tate was the last patient you would be seeing that day before taking the rest of the day to yourself. You liked this new house, it allowed you to work from the comforts of your own home, which you'd prefer to the old office you had to rent out. 

"So, Tate," you said, notebook and pen at the ready, "These fantasies began when exactly? Two years ago? Three years ago?".

You'd been Tate's therapist for a good half hour now. He'd been discussing these 'fantasies' he'd been having involving shooting people, specifically his classmates. "Two years ago," Tate told you, "It's the same every time- It starts the same way,".

"How, sweetie?" you asked.

You'd grown to care for Tate over the short time. He was broken and you wanted to help him. "I prepare for the noble war," Tate admitted and began describing in explicit detail what he'd do to his classmate. It was very, _very_ concerning. But, you wanted to help Tate. Like you wanted to help your other patients. 

His brown eyes were soul-piercing, something about them intrigued you. You tucked a strand of H/c hair behind your ear, writing away. Tate severely disliked society, as he described in detail about 'helping people start anew somewhere else'. You didn't think Tate was crazy but rather creative. Like your teenage daughter, Violet.

"You think I'm crazy?" Tate asked, "Everyone does,".

You smiled softly at Tate. Standing up and placing your notes down, you walked over to the two-seater sofa where Tate sat down. You sat next to him and corrected: "No, I don't. I think you're a very creative boy Tate, like my daughter, Violet. She's around your age, maybe two years younger,".

"You have a daughter?" Tate asked.

You nodded, letting a soft 'mhm' slip from your lips. "I do. She lives with her dad in Boston," you responded, "Well, I'll just say that I wasn't in the best place last year. But, I've started over,".

Tate nodded, taking the information in. You were kind to him. Cared for him. Something Constance never was. "Starting over sounds like a good thing," Tate said, voicing his opinion on the matter.

You cleared your throat as Tate asked "Have you ever felt suicidal?".

You frowned at the question. Your tendencies from the previous year weren't too kind on your body. During when Violet was taken away from you and Ben sent you to the Rehabilitation Facility, you felt suicidal.

"Yes," you softly uttered, prompting a sad smile from Tate.


End file.
